


But Send Me to Sleep

by iridiumring92



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: ...for once, Fluff, M/M, No Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 22:10:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11678082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridiumring92/pseuds/iridiumring92
Summary: Despite driving all night, Ignis refuses to admit that he's exhausted and needs sleep. He's adamant, but Noctis is persistent.





	But Send Me to Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspiration from [Marika Hackman's song "Next Year."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0lCJoiArGQY)
> 
> For Ignoct Week 2017 Day 3: Sleep.

It’s the middle of the afternoon when the four of them finally stop the car at a safe haven. They’ve been driving since late last night, when an encounter with the empire forced them to abandon the place where they’d planned to stay and put as much distance between themselves and the soldiers as possible.

Or rather, _Ignis_ has been driving since last night. The others have been asleep or navigating. They’ve offered to trade places with him, but he’s refused every time. He doesn’t want to stop and give the empire another chance to attack.

Stepping out of the car, he’s about to open what might be his fourth Ebony when Noctis swipes it from his hand. He casts a withering glare at Noctis, who just grins.

“Noct,” he sighs, “please give that back. I’m ex . . . I’ve been up all night.”

Noctis doesn’t miss the slip. He _knows_ Ignis is exhausted and won’t admit it—and he plans to do something about it. “Exactly why I’m not giving it back, Specs. You need sleep.”

“I’ll sleep later tonight,” Ignis says, frustration creeping into his voice despite what Noctis knows must be his best efforts. “Noct, please.”

“No.” Noctis tosses the can backwards into the grass, the slight smile still lingering on his lips. Before Ignis can protest, Noctis takes one of his hands and leads him to the edge of the haven, where one of them left the rolled-up blankets from their supplies in the Regalia. “Come sit with me for a minute.”

On the other side of camp, Prompto’s out taking pictures and Gladio’s looking at something on his phone, but Noctis gets the sense they both know what’s up. Good. He knows Ignis isn’t going to bend easily on this one.

“So the drive,” Noctis says. “How was it?”

“The usual.” Ignis rubs his eyes behind his glasses. “Monotonous, except when the daemons came out.”

“At least we didn’t run into any. The empire was enough trouble, right?” Noctis smiles. He can see the exhaustion clouding Ignis’s eyes, and he half wants to throw all of their available blankets at his advisor and order him to sleep. But he knows even that won’t work.

“As were you,” Ignis says. With the flat expression on his face, Noctis can’t tell whether he’s joking.

“Uh, sorry,” he tries. Ignis starts to shake his head, but Noctis cuts him off. “No, I mean it. I’m sorry. You look terrible. I mean, really tired. You never look terrible.” The last part slips out before he can stop himself, and though his face starts to burn, he knows it’s the truth. He’s always kind of marveled at how Ignis manages to keep it together, even when they’ve been out for several days, are covered in dirt and blood, and haven’t had a chance to style their hair. He just hates how lack of sleep erases the lightness from Ignis’s features, how it draws shadows beneath his eyes and beside his mouth.

“Noct.”

“I’m not taking it back,” Noctis says. He looks back to make sure Gladio and Prompto’s attention is still diverted, and he reaches out to run his hand through Ignis’s hair, pushing back small strands that have fallen over his forehead. “You just look like you need sleep.”

Ignis closes his eyes and leans into Noctis’s touch. Noctis smiles, knowing he’s winning.

He lets his hand trail down to Ignis’s jaw, then to the back of his neck, the curve of his shoulder. He feels Ignis shiver slightly, and then his muscles relax, all at once, and he’s leaning into Noctis, letting Noctis’s touch guide him. A moment later, Ignis rests his head in Noctis’s lap, and he’s _asleep._ Noctis isn’t sure he’s ever seen someone fall asleep that fast.

He takes Ignis’s glasses, carefully, and folds them into his hand before sliding them into his jacket pocket. He rests one hand on Ignis’s shoulder, running his fingers gently up and down a seam in his jacket.

A shadow falls over both of them, and Noctis looks up to see Gladio standing with his arms crossed, a smirk on his lips. “I don’t believe it,” he says, shaking his head slightly at Ignis’s sleeping form. “You must have him wrapped around your little finger.”

“I don’t know about _that_ ,” Noctis says, but he keeps his voice quiet so as not to wake Ignis.

Gladio snorts, as if he _does_ know about that. “Well, whatever it was you did, keep doing it. He’s wearing himself thin. I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

“Me neither,” Noctis says, softly. Then, “Hey, while you’re over here, get me a blanket, would you? We might be here a while.”

Gladio smirks again and rolls his eyes, but he obliges.

When Ignis wakes up a while later, when the sun has sunk lower toward the horizon and afternoon is beginning to fade into evening, he shifts, unaware, against Noctis for a few moments before realizing where he is and sitting upright much too quickly. Noctis braces a casual hand against the small of his back.

“Hey, easy there,” he says, smiling a little.

“ _Oh_. Highness. How did I—I didn’t mean—” Ignis’s face has gone a deep shade of red. “My apologies. I shouldn’t have—”

“Ignis,” Noctis interrupts. “It’s _fine._ You were tired. I don’t mind.” Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, he produces Ignis’s glasses. “You might want these back.”

Ignis plucks the glasses from Noctis’s hand. When he moves to put them back on, Noctis catches his hand and leans in to kiss his cheek.

“ _Noct_.”

Noctis lets him go. “Sleep well?” he teases.

His advisor’s face flushes a new shade of red, and Noctis can see his throat bob as he swallows. “Of course I did, you insufferable prat,” he says almost affectionately, and Noctis laughs.


End file.
